Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/46

16 We could not move a single pace,

We could not see each other's face,

But with that pale and livid light

That made us strangers in our sight:

And thus together—yet apart,

Fettered in hand, but joined in heart,

'Twas still some solace in the dearth

Of the pure elements of earth,

To hearken to each other's speech,

And each turn comforter to each

With some new hope, or legend old,

Or song heroically bold;

But even these at length grew cold.

Our voices took a dreary tone,

An echo of the dungeon stone,

A grating sound, not full and free,

As they of yore were wont to be:

It might be fancy—but to me

They never sounded like our own.

IV.

I was the eldest of the three,

And to uphold and cheer the rest

I ought to do—and did my best—

And each did well in his degree.

The youngest, whom my father loved,

Because our mother's brow was given

To him, with eyes as blue as heaven—

For him my soul was sorely moved:

And truly might it be distressed

To see such bird in such a nest;